


This Isn’t Actually A Date

by kyaorii



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Date For A Case, Drunk Cas, Fluff, Love Confession, M/M, Mild Angst, Sam Planned Everything, Sam Winchester Knows, Sam knows everything, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaorii/pseuds/kyaorii
Summary: Dean and Cas go on a “date” for a case, and Cas ends up admitting his feelings after getting drunk.





	This Isn’t Actually A Date

"Just so you know, this isn't actually a date," Dean clarified, bringing the Impala to a stop in one of the parking bays outside the restaurant. After turning off the engine, he opened the driver-side door and stepped out onto the road before shutting the door behind him.

 

Cas followed, exiting the car at the same time as Dean did. "I am aware of that, Dean," Cas said flatly, shooting a glare at the hunter, "this is for the case."

 

During the last couple days or so, they had been dealing with a case involving a vampire, specifically a vampire that had an acquired taste for rich people blood, and their hunt brought them to a particularly fancy Italian restaurant. Sammy had insisted that the vamp was connected to the restaurant somehow, and with the reputation of the place, they couldn't just waltz in with their usual tactics and whip out their fake FBI badges — they had to come up a different approach, one that would direct the least attention. After a long conversation, they reluctantly agreed that their best option was to pose as customers, specifically, a couple. For obvious reasons, Sam and Dean refused to go together, even if it was a fake date, so the angel Castiel was forced to act as Dean's date, or fake date, rather.

 

Why Sam wouldn't go with Cas, Dean had no clue, but he didn't question it.

 

When it came to getting ready to leave, they realised that their wardrobes were very limited in terms of formal clothing — Dean had to wear his FBI suit, and Cas wore what he practically lives in, minus the trench coat. Seeing Cas without his trench coat made Dean feel a little unsettled. It felt like something key to his character was missing, like if Shaggy were without Scooby; it made him seem less like a cosmic being and more, well, human.

 

As they were about to make their way into the restaurant, Dean noticed that Cas' tie was loose, and even the top button of his shirt was undone. Surely, he should know how to wear a tie properly. "Come on, buddy, you've gotta at least look like you know how to dress yourself," he smirked, meeting Cas at the hood of the Impala to fasten his button and adjust his tie. In doing so, Dean's brain had the audacity to picture the idea of him and Cas actually going on a date, a real date. He quickly buried the thought. 'Not now you son-of-a-bitch.'

 

Dean cleared his throat and turned to continue into the restaurant, Cas following closely behind him. "Sammy better be right about this, these kinda places ain't exactly my thing," Dean stated, pulling on the handle and holding the door open to allow Cas to enter ahead of him.

 

Standing just inside, behind a small counter, was a waitress with her hair tied up in a bun and wearing a plain black uniform with the restaurant name embroidered into it. Once the two of them had entered, she greeted them formally and asked for the name their reservation was booked under.

 

"Nichols," Dean smiled politely, giving Cas a quick glance as the waitress confirmed their reservation.

 

She escorted them through the large room to their table: the interior design consisted of lots of white and black furniture and curtains embellished with gold floral patterns, and their table was decorated with a matching collection of different sized glasses, spoons, forks and knives. Each piece of tableware has its own purpose, however Dean considered most of them to be pointless. 'God, how much extra washing must they have to do?' Dean thought. It almost made him glad that they weren't ever financially well-off because he wouldn't want to ever be in the position where he'd use that many knives during one meal.

 

Whilst they were taking their seats, the waitress placed the menus down on the table and smiled gently before returning in the direction they came. Once she had left, they both quickly observed the room. Apart from a few vacant tables, the majority of the seats were occupied, and neither of them could pinpoint their guy amongst the other customers.

 

"You seen anything yet?" Dean asked, giving up his search and turning to face Cas.

 

He glanced across the room a second time, just in case, before giving Dean his full attention. "No," he replied plainly.

 

As their luck would have it, their table was situated in the centre of the large dining room, which gave them a decent view of the entire room as well as the main entrance and the staff door. If their vamp walked in, they would know.

 

Not that long after being seated, a waiter, wearing a similar uniform to the waitress, stopped beside their table. Looking towards Castiel first, he asked them both what drinks they would like to order.

 

"Whiskey," Cas said, briefly glancing at the waiter before picking up the black and gold menu laid on the table in front of him.

 

Dean forced a polite smile. "Same as him, thanks."

 

The waiter hastily scribbled down their order onto a small pad before speeding off towards the kitchen to collect their drinks.

 

As much as Dean hated expensive restaurants, he loved food, and he hoped to God that it would be worth the money. He picked up the menu and skimmed over the first few dishes they had to offer; he didn't really know what any of them were, except pasta carbonara, which was a safe bet considering they didn't serve the kind of greasy foods his palette was used to.

 

Cas, on the other hand, knew exactly what everything was — he observed them being invented, after all — but he didn't need to eat, and frankly, it would be a waste of money if he were to order anything. He supposed he had to order something, though.

 

Soon, the waiter returned with their drinks, placing them down on the table in front of them. He straightened his posture before asking them if they were ready order.

 

"Yeah, I'll have the, uh, Pasta Carbonara," Dean said, closing his menu and handing it to the waiter. He then let his gaze fall to Cas' face, watching his lips intently as he ordered.

 

Cas hesitated for a moment, still unsure of what to choose. "Could I have the Mushroom Risotto, please?" He insisted, copying Dean's actions and handing his menu to the waiter. The angel had little to no knowledge of how to act in a formal setting such as this, however, Dean had more experience, so it was in his best interest to do whatever Dean does in order to at least look like he knows what he's doing.

 

The waiter left them alone once more, but without having a menu to read, the situation got awkward.

 

Dean picked up his glass of whiskey and took a generous sip, comforted by the familiar feeling of his throat burning as he swallowed the liquor. He hadn't realised how little time he and Cas had to just talk, and now they had the chance to, he couldn't, for the life of him, think of a conversation starter.

 

"Um," Cas started abruptly, "how are you?"

 

It turns out that the angel was struggling with starting a conversation too.

 

"I'm fine, Cas, how about you?"

 

"Well, I suppose I am fine too. Although, I do feel out-of-my-depth here."

 

"Me too, I don't really-"

 

Before Dean could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by an elderly woman: she had stopped beside their table whilst making her way out of the restaurant. "Excuse me, is this your husband?" She asked Dean, gesturing towards Cas sitting opposite him.

 

"No, we're-"

 

"We're engaged," Cas improvised, shooting a slightly panicked look towards Dean. He hadn't intended to speak, but the words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

 

Dean felt his face heat up slightly at the words. The thought from earlier about him and Cas actually being together resurfaced — it was an overwhelming situation to say the least.

 

"Oh congratulations!" She exclaimed, ignoring the fact that neither of them wore engagement rings. "You've both done very well for yourselves; I wish my husband were as half as handsome as you two are."

 

An older man, likely her husband, who had been standing behind her this entire time, urging her to leave, rolled his eyes and sighed defeatedly. Poor guy.

 

After that, she waved goodbye and finally left the restaurant. Both Dean and Cas were blushing, but neither wanted to admit it; they would much rather be killing demons or wendigo right now, not having their relationship tested by a nosy elderly woman. To be honest, neither of them expected they would actually have to lie about being together, or engaged as Castiel had said in the heat of the moment, and the idea of being engaged didn't seem bad at all. Besides, if they did live long enough to get married, by some miracle, being married to each other seemed like an ideal outcome for the both of them.

 

"Well," Dean said, taking a swig of whiskey, "that was nice."

 

Cas furrowed his brow. "I disagree, she made me incredibly uncomfortable."

 

"I was being sarcastic."

 

Eventually, their food arrived and they ordered a couple more drinks. Talking to each other came much more naturally once they had some alcohol in their systems: they talked about old films, music, and just pop culture in general — Metatron was good for one thing at least.

 

"We should do this more often," Dean smiled, almost downing his third drink in one go. "Just us two, in a restaurant or bar somewhere, drinking whiskey, talkin' about whatever."

 

Cas grinned fondly as he imagined how much more time he and Dean could spend together in the future. "Yeah, we should."

 

Finishing off the rest of his drink and clearing his throat, Dean suggested, "Hey, uh, speaking of bars... whaddya say we blow this joint and take a trip down the road for round two?"

 

The angel eagerly chugged the rest of his drink and nodded, stopping the passing waiter to ask for the bill; they paid in cash.

 

They'd completely forgotten about the reason they were supposed to be at the restaurant in the first place, but they were too out of it to realise, distracted by each other's company. Luckily for them, the guy never did show up.

 

After leaving the restaurant, they clambered back into the Impala and started off down the road in the direction they came from. Dean recalled passing a bar just off the side of the road about a mile away. He was right. They drove into the gravel car park outside the bar and parked the Impala in one of the bays before making their way inside.

 

The bar was considerably louder than the restaurant, music blasting from speakers dotted around the room, and it was almost as busy. Now this was where Dean Winchester felt the most comfortable. He meandered over to the bar, weaving between groups of people, and took a seat on one of the stools, gesturing for Cas to do the same.

 

Over the space of a few hours, the two of them managed to chug four beers, and a couple shots, and they had also rid themselves of their jackets and ties. Some of the top buttons on their shirts were undone too. Sammy was there the last time they went out drinking like this, and it was a little strange missing the tallest member of Team Free Will, but spending time alone together was refreshing, almost.

 

At 2:34am, Cas almost fell out of his seat — despite angels' incredible alcohol tolerance — and that's when Dean decided it was time to go. He settled the tab at the at the bar, then hauled the angel out of his seat and dragged him outside. Staggering over to the Impala, Dean slung Cas' arm over his shoulderto provide some kind of support and prevent him from toppling over.

 

"Dean," Cas slurred, grinning hazily at Dean, "love you."

 

"Sure you do," Dean replied, more focused on getting the two of them back to the motel than what Cas was babbling. He opened the passenger door and guided Cas down onto the seat, shutting the door again before making his way around to the driver's side. Cas, who was incredibly drunk, couldn't stop himself from staring longingly at Dean as he clambered into the car.

 

"I do, I do love you, Dean. Always have."

 

Dean started the car and turned on the radio. When he didn't reply, Castiel reached over and forcefully grabbed his right hand, holding it in his own as he gazed at him with those lidded blue eyes.

 

Looking between their hands and Cas, Dean realised that maybe, just maybe, Cas did love him. It was a ridiculous thought, there was no way in hell that someone like Cas loved someone like him. But what if it wasn't ridiculous, what if all it took was getting him drunk for him to admit it? Now is not the time for this 'what if' shit.

 

"You're drunk, Cas, we'll talk about this later, okay?" Dean said firmly. Reluctantly, the angel released his grip on his hand, allowing Dean to put the Impala into gear and speed off down the road once more.

 

They didn't speak a word the entire journey.

 

When they eventually got back to the motel, and into their room, Sammy was sleeping; Dean had to gather a t-shirt from his bag as quietly as possible to ensure he didn't wake him up before creeping into the bathroom to get changed out of his suit.

 

Upon leaving the bathroom, he realised that Cas, an angel who doesn't need to sleep, was passed out on his bed of all places. After tonight he really didn't want to have to bed-share with Cas, of all people, at least not until they had a conversation about earlier, but he didn't have the strength to argue. He pulled back the covers and climbed into bed next to Cas, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

Dean was awoken by his younger brother, Sammy, who was forcefully shaking him. He blinked open his eyes, and groaned, the familiar feeling of a hangover washing over him.

 

"Ah, you're finally awake," Sam said, leaving Dean's bedside and taking a seat at the table at the other side of the room. "How was the date?"

 

Dean replied groggily, "Gimme a break, Sammy, I've been up for, what, ten seconds?"

 

Sam gave him the look.

 

"Fine, fine, it was..." He paused, suddenly realising that the vampire never even turned up, and he wasn't going to ever show up was he? "Actually, you know what, now that I think about it, we never even spotted that vamp. What's all that about?" He asked, squinting over at his brother.

 

"Oh, he wasn't there, I sorted it out," Sam said matter-of-factly.

 

"What do you mean you sorted it out?"

 

"I mean I killed him."

 

"And you didn't think to tell me or Cas?"

 

"I didn't want to interrupt your date," Sammy protested, acting like he had been offended, "which I organised by the way, you're welcome."

 

"It wasn't a date, Sammy, I'm not gay, and Cas- Cas, he, uh, shit!" Dean sputtered, burying his face in his hands as he recalled what had happened the night before.

 

The younger brother frowned questioningly. "He what, Dean?"

 

"He said- he said he loves me. Always has."

 

Sam couldn't help but chuckle: how could his brother be such an airhead? "You're literally the last person to realise that."

 

"No, wait, what?" Dean questioned, his eyes widening in shock, "You knew?"

 

"Yeah, it's obvious," Sammy smirked.

 

Dean mentally kicked himself, murmuring under his breath, "God, this entire time?" He'd been hiding his feelings for Cas for so long, and now he hears that Cas has been hiding his feelings too, and he's been too much of an idiot to realise.

 

"You had better fucking talk to him or so help me," Sam droned before dramatically banging his forehead against the table.

 

"Hey, uh, where is he by the way?"

 

"He's just getting breakfast and coffee; he'll be back soon."

 

Dean sighed heavily, stretching a little, "Well, I'm going in the shower."

 

The older brother clambered out of bed and shuffled over to his duffel bag to fetch a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and some clean underwear.

 

Just as Dean was making his way into the bathroom, Sam chortled, "You were an adorable little spoon, just so you know."

 

"Eat me," Dean said, his face turning bright red as he imagined Cas cuddling against his back. Then he slammed the bathroom door behind him.

 

By the time Dean had finished in the bathroom, Cas and Sam were sitting at the table, eating bacon sandwiches. He made his way over and pulled out a chair to join them, picking up one of the paper bags and unwrapping his sandwich before taking a huge bite. They ate mostly in silence, tension in the air, and Sam needed to leave whilst he still could.

 

"I'm going to just... go to the library," Sam said, making any excuse he could, then he left the room and shut the door behind him. The engine of the Impala started up and it sped off — Sam had taken the keys.

 

Dean took a deep breath.

 

Everyone who knew Dean knew that he didn't talk about his feelings, but now he was in a situation where he couldn't avoid it and it was difficult to steady his breathing. He sighed and mentally prepared himself to face this head-on.

 

"Cas, about last night-"

 

The angel interrupted him, intending to apologise, "Dean, I'm sorry, I got far too drunk and- and I said things I didn't mean to say and if you could just forget everything I'd be grateful."

 

"So, you didn't mean to say you loved me?" Dean asked. He surprised himself with how steady his words were considering how incredibly nervous he was.

 

Cas broke their eye contact, unable to look at Dean, the man he had loved for years. "No..."

 

"But do you love me, Cas?"

 

It was just a question, but it struck Cas with fear: what would happen if he were to answer truthfully? He was afraid that Dean would be angry with him, hate him, if he were to admit how he felt, and he'd rather deal with the painful longing than lose Dean. He couldn't lose Dean. Still undecided as to what was the best response, Cas remained silent.

 

Fuck it, Dean thought — it was all or nothing.

 

"Because, if you do," he smiled gently, resting his palm on Cas' knee, "that'd be the best news I've heard in a while."

 

Cas' eyes, filled with shock, connected with Dean's. His green eyes were sincere, and Cas couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe that Dean would actually return the same feelings, and he felt like an utter idiot.

 

"Look, Cas, there's stuff I've been hiding too, and I wanted to say something so many times, but I was scared, you know, of losing you, again," Dean swallowed, forcing himself to make eye-contact with Cas. Everything was coming out now, all the emotions he had hidden over the years, it was all flowing out of him at once, and he felt tears start streaming down his face. "I can't lose you again, Cas."

 

"Dean," Cas choked, his eyes beginning to well up. He leant forwards in his chair to close the gap between them and hold Dean in his arms. "I'm not going anywhere."

 

Letting himself go, Dean snuggled into Cas, burying his face into his neck as he sobbed — his tears staining the lapels of the angel's trench coat. There was so much more to say, but Dean couldn't get the words out of his mouth.

 

Castiel held Dean closer, gently trailing his fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him; he tried with all his might, all his grace, to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over the edge, but his efforts were futile as he soon felt a trickle down his cheek.

 

"Cas," Dean said, his voice muffled, "I love you." He gripped onto his angel more tightly, holding him as closely as he possibly could, hoping that they could stay like this forever.

 

"I love you, Dean," Cas murmured into Dean's ear. He'd already said it before, but this time he knew that Dean loved him too.


End file.
